Nightshade and Memories
by akblake
Summary: Eliot and Hardison are in a bad spot, and some of Hardison's past comes to light. Very unspoken pre-slash, can be called "friendship" instead if you're squeamish ;)


Eliot groaned as he woke to pounding behind his eyes and an incredibly dry mouth. The side of his neck was sore, and when he felt the raised welt, he quickly put together the symptoms to determine that he'd been drugged with a sedative containing nightshade. Not the most pleasant of concoctions, but one he'd weathered through before. As the fog in his head cleared, he remembered a very important point- Hardison had been playing bodyguard along with him when the goons attacked. Frantic searching in the spotty light made his head pound worse, but also yielded Hardison's unconscious body some distance away. From the cant of the container, and the heavy metal sides dotted with small holes, Eliot figured that they'd been tossed into a shipping container of some kind, one which was partially upended. Given that their mark owned a scrap yard, it made sense.

A quick check of Hardison's body didn't reveal any true damage, beyond the same scrapes and fresh bruises Eliot had from their tumble, he seemed to simply be drugged. "Hardison!" Eliot called, trying to wake the hacker, and was partially successful as his efforts brought sluggish movement. Eyes blinked open and before Hardison pulled away from the stray light beam with a hiss, Eliot was disheartened to see dilated pupils. He helped his friend sit up and lean back against the metal side. "We were drugged and tossed in here," quickly summed up their situation.

"Where are we?" Hardison managed to ask though his speech was slurred; another clear warning sign for Eliot.

Sitting a few feet away, Eliot said, "I'm assuming one of Claygill's scrap yards. Last I remember are the goons rushing in from the side, and they must have drugged us."

"What goons, Emery? Thought you said t' stay 'way from ya," Hardison replied and tried to scoot further away, but only succeeded in nearly falling over. Eliot quickly tried to prop him back up, but froze when Hardison cringed and brought his arms up to protect his ribs first, and then pointed off to the empty air to his right when Eliot backed off. "No! I ain't hittin' on ya, man, an' ya don't gotta warn me again! Jus' don't know where we is, is all,"

Truly alarmed now, Eliot sat as far away as far as he could, trying not to agitate Hardison. "Hardison! Do you remember what we were doing at the warehouse? Do you remember playing Sophie's bodyguards?" he tried to prompt, seeing if the memories could break through the hallucination. What he remembered about nightshade wasn't good- even a mild overdose caused severe symptoms like hallucinations, mess with his ability to sweat which could be deadly in the container's heat, and damage his heart. Either they'd dosed Hardison too heavily or he was unbelievably sensitive to the nightshade in it.

Hardison blinked as he tried to process Eliot's questions. "Ye-yeah, I remember. We were meeting the goons to exchange something, weren't we?" he asked, and Eliot noticed that his speech was back to normal.

"We were, but they jumped us. We were drugged and thrown in here. You're having a bad reaction to whatever they used," Eliot tried to explain while keeping it fairly simple, certain that Hardison was still confused.

"That why I'm seeing things? Thought I was back at school again," he tried to laugh it off, but it fell flat after his previous terror. "Look man, if I say anything…" Hardison obviously groped for the words, and Eliot stepped in.

"Anything you say in here will stay in here, okay? You can't help what that shit is doing to your head." He received a grateful nod before Hardison realized that moving his sore head was a very bad idea.

They sat in silence for a bit before Hardison groaned again and tried to stand. "Why ya jocks gotta beat a guy? Should take it as a compl'ment," he fussed, and Eliot caught the shift in his words. This time he kept his seat, away from Hardison, and forced himself to simply watch as any attempts to help would only be seen as aggression. He didn't need to rile the guy up in this heat.

"Why'd they beat you?" he asked, more to break the silence than any deep desire to poke into Hardison's past.

Hardison gave him an incredulous look as he gave up on standing. "You a jock, Jason, should know why. Brotha' say ya' look good, ya' beat 'em. Learned m'lesson though, Alec don' flirt with nobody."

"Okay," Eliot drawled, thrown by the information. "Would 'I'm sorry' help?" he offered, trying to keep Hardison calm.

"What are you sorry for, man?" Hardison replied after several minutes, and was obviously back in the present. He leaned his head back against the container's wall and closed his eyes.

Eliot looked him over to make sure that he wasn't heading for heatstroke or tachycardia, only dealing with a headache and dizziness caused by the reaction. "Apologizing on behalf of the jocks, apparently they were idiots."

Hardison's eyes popped open and he stared at Eliot, alarmed. "Oh man, wish that hadn't come out!" he said, disgusted. "Look, that's all part of my past, and I learned my lesson, so you don't have to worry."

"Worry about what? That you check out guys as well as girls? Trust me, that's the least thing I'd complain about. You leaving soda bottles everywhere and not cleaning up after yourself is a bigger worry!" Eliot got a small grin for his efforts and considered it a win. They sat in silence for a longer time, each trying to deal with their own headaches and conserving energy. "Tell you what," Eliot's voice broke the stillness, "when they get us out of here, this jock will take you out on a date, how's that sound?"

Hardison stared at him uncomprehendingly, and Eliot had the bizarre urge to ask if he'd spoken in Russian rather than English. "Look man, I don't know why you're offering, but I don't date anymore. Safer that way," he declined. Hardison's face showed a mix of emotions, from regret to wariness, and Eliot's imagination easily filled in some of those past encounters.

"You really think I'm going to hurt you?" he asked, and watched Hardison twitch as the guess hit home. "Just asking you out for dinner and a movie of your choice, even that one you were carrying on about yesterday. You know me, Hardison, would I try to hurt you?"

"Don't know what to think, honestly, but it's safer if I don't," Hardison reluctantly replied. He plainly wanted to accept, but fear held him back, and Eliot let the invitation lie. Hardison dozed off, worn out by his own body's reaction, and Eliot kept silent guard in case the goons came back.

Sudden scrabbling at the container's door, above their heads, brought them both to full alertness. Agonizingly bright sunlight poured in as the doors were opened, but the most welcome voice chirped, "Found them!" Eyes still trying to adjust, Eliot and Hardison simply leaned on each other in relief- the cavalry must have arrived if Parker's presence was any indication. "Stay there guys, we're throwing ropes down," she called, and fit words to action as two ropes whapped them on the head.

"Could you aim a little better, Parker?" Eliot had to complain, but with far less heat than normal. They tied themselves onto the ropes, Eliot helping Hardison make a serviceable harness, and were unceremoniously dragged up the crate's incline to the top. Some wriggling and struggling later, they were free and safely back on the ground.

Nate grinned as he inspected his two missing lambs. "Tracked your earbuds back to where they lost signal, and the idiots were kind enough to leave footprints all over the place," he indicated the stack of metal containers behind them, including the one they just escaped, and sure enough- there were dusty work boot prints climbing all over them. Sophie pulled the van around then, still trailing the ropes she'd used to haul them out with, and they all piled in after picking up the equipment. Eliot insisted that Hardison be checked out by a medic buddy of his, carefully not revealing why, and Hardison simmered down after a pointed glare in his direction. Nightshade poisoning wasn't something Eliot was willing to play around with as it could have left permanent damage. The others were curious, but shelved their questions after receiving glares of their own.

Hours and many bottles of water later, Eliot and Hardison were bedding down in Nate's guest rooms; despite not knowing exactly what happened, but having an uncannily accurate guess, Nate had ordered the two to stay the night where he could keep an eye on them both. Eliot ambled into Hardison's room and waited to be acknowledged. "You still have a date Friday. I'll pick you up at six," he stated and then left Hardison sputtering behind him. A promise was a promise, and Eliot wasn't about to let his friend's fear keep him from enjoying an "Eliot Spencer special", particularly when Hardison was safe as houses when it came to this particular jock!


End file.
